


give me the heart on your neck

by downthedarkpath



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, Cute, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Sports, Tennis, Tennis AU, sports AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downthedarkpath/pseuds/downthedarkpath
Summary: When he looks to the other side of the court, and sees Karl, busy taking a drink out of his water bottle, Sapnap could almost pretend that time stops.Half shadowed by the mid-morning sun, the tops of his cheekbones flushed deliciously red from the warmth of the day, and tipping his head back far enough to expose the full column of his neck. Sapnap thinks he looks like an angel. Karl swallows, and Sapnap watches the tendons of his neck flex before he recaps the water bottle.George takes the opportunity to kick Sapnap
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 405





	give me the heart on your neck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smologan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smologan/gifts), [crimsvn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsvn/gifts).



> why yes, i did just write 7000 words about a sport i know nothing about. 
> 
> (seriously, the only thing i know about tennis comes from the halfhearted matches i hated during secondary school. i implore you to forgive any inaccuracies)
> 
> enjoy it!
> 
> title from [le velo pour deux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eqc6CQwqq-w) by the brobecks.

“We’re going to be late,” George announces. 

He probably thinks he’s being informative and helpful. Sapnap glares at him in between stuffing a hoodie in his backpack and retrieving his water bottle from the fridge. “I  _ know  _ we’re going to be late.”

George shrugs. He’s been standing by the front door, ready to leave and tapping his watch for the past ten minutes. “I’m just reminding you,” he says, all innocent like Sapnap doesn’t want to hit him right now. 

“If you had helped me, maybe we’d leave quicker,” Sapnap snaps. His backpack doesn’t zip up all the way, so he forces it as far as it’ll go before slinging it over his shoulder, hoping nothing will fall out of it, and stepping up to George. George, who deliberately stands there with a smug grin and his hand on the door handle for another twenty seconds, blatantly watching the clock like this is utterly deliberate. 

“ _ Now  _ we can leave,” George says, swinging the door open on the minute exactly and letting Sapnap out first. “Now, you have a better chance of seeing your tennis player.” He says it like he’s done Sapnap a massive favour - and he completely ignores the incredulous glare Sapnap gives him. 

“You made us late just for  _ that _ ?!”

George grins, “maybe. You’ll thank me later.”

“I don’t think I will,” Sapnap says. He slams the door shut harder than he probably should have, but they’ll be lucky if they make it to the courts by half past, at which point they’ll be nearing twenty minutes late, and he figures that frustration is worth it. George just rolls his eyes at him. Sapnap wonders why they ever became friends in the first place. Knowing his luck, they won’t even see his player at all.

* * *

They don’t play at the official stadium for training, but the practice courts are still in the same area. George uses his keycard to scan them both in, and then proceeds to enjoy a leisurely walk throughout the grounds, like they aren’t late enough to warrant being fired right now. Sapnap has never seen a face look so punchable. 

Sapnap jogs several steps ahead of him, running back and forth in the hopes he can warm up before they get to the court being used today. It doesn’t work as much as he’d hoped, and he almost trips over on a loose stone on the path. They don’t even run into his tennis player on the way, which dampens his spirits far more than he’d like to admit to. 

“You’re making me nervous,” George calls. Sapnap ignores him. 

They get to the right court eventually, and Quackity, who had been waiting on the sidelines, glares as they approach. Sapnap immediately diverts his attention to George.

“Don’t blame me,” he says quickly, dropping his bag on the courtside, “George made us late.”

“I did not!”

“I don’t care who did or didn’t,” Quackity says, “I care that you guys left me here to deal with Dream  _ and  _ Karl alone.”

“Karl is playing?” Sapnap asks.

It means George was wrong to make them late in the hopes of catching Karl on the way in, which is knowledge that settles something in Sapnap’s chest. George, to his credit, looks the slightest bit sheepish about it.

Quackity and George both give him a look. Quackity says, “did you not notice? I thought your Karl-sense would be going haywire right now.”

“Did you not even look at the scheduled training times today?” George asks. Sapnap shakes his head (he hasn’t checked the training schedule since the first day they got it. George tends to talk enough that he usually finds out everything he needs to just by being close to him).

“How you still have a job here is beyond me,” Quackity says, almost in awe.

“Which, speaking of,” George says, “we still have to do. And it looks like they’ve been waiting for us.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t made us late, they wouldn’t have to be,” Sapnap mutters, but he still dutifully turns to face the court.

Dream is bouncing a tennis ball between a racket and his hand. He does it so casually it almost annoys Sapnap, barely even looking at the ball to catch it perfectly every time. When Sapnap glances over to George, he sees the smitten look in his eyes, which will definitely be something to tease him about later. For now, he just kicks the side of George’s foot with his own, and sends him a theatrical wink when he gets his attention.

When he looks to the other side of the court, and sees Karl, busy taking a drink out of his water bottle, Sapnap could almost pretend that time stops.

Half shadowed by the mid-morning sun, the tops of his cheekbones flushed deliciously red from the warmth of the day, and tipping his head back far enough to expose the full column of his neck. Sapnap thinks he looks like an angel. Karl swallows, and Sapnap watches the tendons of his neck flex before he recaps the water bottle.

George takes the opportunity to kick Sapnap back. His kick, however, ends up hitting Sapnaps’ shin. He stumbles slightly, turns to glare at him, snaps, “George! What the hell?!”

If George is embarrassed at all, he doesn’t show it. He grins, snatches a spare tennis ball discarded on the side of the court, and gestures for Sapnap to turn around. 

When he does, Karl is staring back at him. Sapnap inhales. George laughs at him. The moment passes soon enough, because Dream flicks his tennis ball up and over the net, and Karl has to launch himself halfway across his side in order to hit it back. Their gaze breaks, but Sapnap can’t stop staring at him.

“You’re so stupid,” George informs him. Sapnap doesn’t bother responding - instead he watches Karl volley the tennis ball across the court. 

His strike is impressive. He manages to get the ball in the furthest corner of the court, where Dream just misses it, and scores the first point of the game. George runs across to retrieve the ball, tossing a new one to Dream and offering him a grin at the same time. Karl swings his racket around a bit, waiting for Dream to serve again. It’s lazy, beautifully effortless, and Sapnap is utterly captivated.

It doesn’t take long for everyone to get into the swing of things, and soon enough Sapnap can barely think of anything more than catching the ball when it goes out of bounds. He barely sees George and Quackity in his peripheral, both focusing on the game as much as he is. Dream and Karl, too, slowly settle into more competitive stances, friendly plays giving way for more savage ones. It’s completely entrancing to watch.

Karl wins the first game. Dream takes it well, which Sapnap attributes to the good weather and the fact that Mercury has come out of retrograde, or something. George tosses him a water bottle, and Sapnap offers Karl one too. George receives a grateful smile; Sapnap does not.

He forgives Karl, though. It’s early, and hot, and he’s probably distracted. Even when Quackity gives him a reassuring pat on the back, which was probably intended to make him feel worse, he doesn’t let it get him down. At least… he tries not to let it.

Dream serves first for the next match. Sapnap makes a deliberate note of the awed look on George’s face to make fun of him later, even though he has no doubt he makes a similar one whenever Dream serves too. There’s just something about it, watching sheer power ripple through the air and follow the ball through, bouncing over the net and into the far corner, that seems totally intimidating and awe-inspiring and alien. 

There’s also something about watching the way Karl lunges for the ball, catching it just before it bounces out of the court and scores Dream his point, hitting back across the court. He plays just as well, just as powerfully. Sapnap prefers watching Karl play, anyway. (And it has nothing to do with the way his thighs flex in his tennis shorts.)

Dream scores the first point, but it doesn’t take Karl long to even the field again. There’s a moment of tension where they manage to volley the ball between them for about ten consecutive strikes, and Sapnap can see them both growing more frustrated with it. Finally, Karl manages to slip it past Dream, and gets the leg up.

Quackity runs for the ball that time, and Sapnap tosses a new one to Karl for his serve. He likes watching the serves, seeing Karl leap up to follow the ball and then slam it down. He does it far more gracefully than Dream does, who tends to take on the offense and it shows in everything he does. Where Dream serves like he’s trying to knock his opposing player out, Karl plays like he’s undercover, trying to slip it past the enemy before they’ve even realised he’s played.

Before long, Dream wins the second match, and holds a hand up for a pause. George rushes him with more water, and Sapnap takes the opportunity to approach Karl.

“You’re playing well today,” he says.

Karl turns around to look at him. Up close, Sapnap can see the beginning beads of sweat on his forehead, curling their way down his temples. He grins, “implying I don’t play well normally?”

Sapnap widens his eyes, flushes all the way down his body. “No! Not at all. Just that… um…”

“Don’t worry,” Karl waves it off, setting his racket down to pick up the same bottle of water Sapnap had tried to offer earlier. “I know what you mean. Thanks. I think it’s the weather, you know?”

“Yeah,” Sapnap says, “it’s good weather.”

This is so awkward. Sapnap can already hear George and Quackity laughing at him.

“It is,” Karl agrees, “Really warm.”

Sapnap nods, giving him a half smile. He says, “it’s much nicer playing the outside courts than the indoor ones.”

“You’re right,” Karl says. He mirrors the half smile. “I hate the linoleum inside. It’s so much harder to play on.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap says. He has no idea. He’s never played on the indoor courts - he’s barely played on the outdoor ones either. George hates playing actual matches, and Quackity always turns it into some dumb bet that ends up embarrassing him, so Sapnap has learnt not to challenge either of them.

“You play?” Karl asks.

Sapnap shrugs, “I’d like to. I don’t play often though; George and Quackity are like the only people I talk to, and neither of them enjoy playing that much.”

He ignores the voice in his head (the one that sounds suspiciously like George) saying, ‘ _ great going, Sapnap, tell the guy you’re interested in how lonely and socially inept you are. That’ll really make him like you. _ ’

“Well, you know. I have some free time after this practice session,” Karl says, “I could play you a few matches.”

“You’d totally win all of them,” Sapnap says, “I don’t know if I’m ready to be embarrassed like that.”

“Well, if you don’t want to…” Karl shrugs, capping the lid of his bottle. “I’ve gotta get back to beating Dream. Just come talk to me when we’re done, yeah? I won’t take it personally if you say no.”

“Sure,” Sapnap says. He already knows his answer, but Karl has already returned to his side of the court, holding his racket and a ball, clearly waiting for Dream to stop cheesing at George and start playing again.

Quackity gives him a theatrical wink from across the court. Sapnap gives Quackity his middle finger. Karl serves before Quackity has the chance to make a face back at him, which is probably a good thing.

The third lasts much longer than the other two, and by the end of it, Sapnap is exhausted just from watching the two of them play. Karl wins, and Dream offers him a much more genuine looking smile, calling out, “good game! You’ve been practicing.”

Sapnap only has to watch the way George is hanging onto Dream like a lost puppy to know he probably won’t even notice if he stays with Karl for a bit. He gives Quackity a wave, tries to send a half-hearted grin to Dream (which he misses entirely, because he’s too busy staring at George. Sapnap wonders how long it’ll take either of them to notice), and then walks over to Karl, who’s wandered to the back side of the court and started draining his water bottle.

“Karl?”

“Yeah?” Karl turns around. His cheeks are far, far redder, now, flushing across the bridge of his nose. Sapnap has to take a moment just to stare at them.

“Uh, about that game,” Sapnap says, “if you’re still up for it.”

Karl grins, “totally! Totally up for it. You ready to get destroyed?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Sapnap says. It’s easy to slip into this role, the one that uses friendly trash talk and teases easily. He does it with George often enough. But Karl’s ammo is far more deadly; Sapnap can’t help but wonder how much he’ll be able to take before Karl pushes too far and he embarrasses himself.

“Should you, now?” Karl says. His grin weakens into a challenging smile, which is arguably much harder for Sapnap to tear his gaze from. “I wonder if you’ll be saying the same thing once you eat my dust.”

“Not if you eat mine first,” Sapnap says. He turns back to the court, to see Quackity, George, and Dream have all cleared off. Karl stands up next to him, swinging the racket at his side lazily.

Karl hands him a second racket from his case, which Sapnap hadn’t exactly been expecting, but he ducks his head in a thank you. It feels… kind of weird, to be holding something of Karl’s. He adamantly ignores the middle school boy in his head, who says things like ‘this is the closest we’ve ever gotten to holding his hand’. It  _ is  _ kind of intimate though, in an odd sort of way.

“You ready?” Karl asks. 

Sapnap nods. He probably isn’t ready; he probably won’t ever be ready. But he takes the tennis ball Karl hands him and makes his way to the side of the court that Dream had previously been playing on, settling himself on the balls of his feet. 

Karl stands on his side far more casually. He rolls his shoulders, says, “whenever you’re ready. I’ll go easy on you to start with.”

“Don’t worry,” Sapnap says, wondering if he’ll regret this, “I can take it.”

It makes Karl’s lips curl up in a grin, one that stirs a warm sort of discomfort in Sapnap’s stomach. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Sapnap says. He isn’t.

“If you say so,” Karl says. He adopts a beautiful smile, one that’s full of mischief and childish joy and anticipation. Sapnap has to take a moment to steel himself.

He tosses the ball up, and hits it midair. His serves are far weaker than Dream’s or Karl’s, and it shows in the way the ball barely scrapes over the top of the net. It does mean Karl has to lunge for the ball and flick it back up and over, though. 

Karl’s hits are way stronger, and Sapnap has to really focus on sending a backhanded swing across the court. Thankfully, it lands, but Karl still manages to pick it up and hit it back. Sapnap just misses it, and Karl scores the first point. Which is kind of what Sapnap expected, but by now, the exhilaration is starting to thrum through his veins, and he finds he doesn’t mind too much.

Not when Karl smiles at him like that.

Karl serves hard and fast, and Sapnap just about manages to send the ball back. He’s so busy congratulating himself on actually making the hit that he doesn’t even realise when Karl misses it and the scores even. 

“You’re not as bad as I thought you would be,” Karl calls across the court. He tosses the ball back over so Sapnap can serve, and Sapnap catches it one hand.

“Thanks,” he says, “I think.” He serves, and by now, he’s focused more on the game than on Karl. The competitiveness is addicting, and it fuels him, pushing him deeper into the game. 

He’ll never live it down if George finds out he lost to Karl - even if Karl is the professional level player and he’s just the ball boy. Karl volleys it easily, and Sapnap throws himself towards the ball when it spins towards him. 

This time, Karl scores another point easily. He sends the ball over the furthest corner of Sapnap’s side, and he doesn’t have time to follow it. It’s a cheap and easy point, and Sapnap makes a point to glare at Karl when he grins.

“That was sly,” he says, but he doesn’t refute it. Karl just laughs prettily.

“It was  _ slick,  _ more like,” Karl calls. “You’re totally going to lose, now!”

“I am not going to lose,” Sapnap says, decisively. He spins the ball up higher now, slamming it across the court and forcing Karl to dive for it.

He misses, for the first time, letting the ball bounce once, twice, and then Sapnap gets the point. Even though he loses it, Karl doesn’t seem to mind as their score evens once more. He just smiles across the pitch, and it feels like Sapnap’s been tilted off his axis, spinning wildly as his centre of gravity begins to circle around Karl.

“You blundered that on purpose,” Sapnap accuses.

Karl tries to deny it, says, “you’re just too good for me,” but his eyes tell the truth and Sapnap hasn’t looked away from them once. 

“I thought I said you didn’t have to go easy on me,” Sapnap says, as Karl snatches up the ball and starts bouncing it on his racket.

“You did,” Karl says, “doesn’t mean I had to listen. Maybe I want to see you win.”

“Maybe I want to win properly.”

“Alright,” Karl concedes, tossing the ball up and serving it with ease, “I’ll play fairly now. Promise. Even if I just want to see your face whenever you get a point.”

It’s closer to flirting than anything else has been up to this point, and Sapnap feels a heat that doesn’t come from the weather flushing his face. It flusters him enough that Karl gets a third point and Sapnap falters, glaring at him across the court.

“That is  _ not  _ playing fairly.”

Karl just grins again, holding his hands up in a mockery of surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I really will play fair now.”

“Promise?” Sapnap repeats his words from earlier.

“Promise,” Karl says. “We won’t count that point, and I’ll even let you serve again.”

Sapnap sighs, abiding by his words and collecting the ball to serve. He feels flustered and fluttery now - where he had had confidence and exhilaration burning through his veins, now he has butterflies and something heavier settling in his stomach, something that burns its way up to his cheeks. “Fine. Play properly. Come on.”

“I will!” Karl exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Sapnap tosses the ball up to serve, hitting it across.

It bounces once in the left quadrant, and Karl backhands it over the net. Sapnap volleys back, and Karl doesn’t even let it bounce once when he leaps nearly a foot and a half in the air and hits it over his head. Sapnap barely has a moment to breath before he has to leap back into action and hit back, barely able to appreciate the stroke Karl just made outside of staring at his self-satisfied grin.

Karl scores the actual third point, playing by the rules this time, but it only takes two strokes for Sapnap to score again and bring them even again.

“Three all,” Karl calls. “You  _ are  _ playing better than I expected.”

“I still don’t know if I should be offended by that,” Sapnap says. “Thanks?”

“It’s a compliment,” Karl says, “where did you learn to play like this?”

Sapnap shrugs. “I don’t know. I watch you and Dream play a lot.”

Karl tosses the tennis ball up and down in his hands a few times before lobbing it over the net. Sapnap catches it on instinct. “I’ll let you serve the game point,” Karl says, like he’s doing Sapnap a huge favour.

“Gee, thanks,” Sapnap says, but he serves anyway, striking it as hard as he can. Karl skips back across his side, catches it easily and sends it back towards Sapnap.

He only just manages to catch it and bounce it to Karl, who sidesteps easily and volleys back. Sapnap’s almost jealous of the ease with which he plays, like a dancer on the court. He pivots and steps and twists like its second nature, and maybe it is to him. 

Somehow, by some twist of fate, Sapnap manages to score the game point and Karl whoops for him good naturedly. Sapnap can hardly believe it when Karl sprints around the side of the net, tossing his racket aside and leaping to hook his arms around Sapnap’s neck in some sort of celebration, like they’ve been friends for years. He stumbles back a few steps, grinning madly. Karl’s acting like he just won Wimbledon, not a friendly match between an amatuer and a pro, but he can’t deny the warmth that bubbles in his chest.

“You won!” Karl cheers, moving his hands from Sapnap’s neck to his forearms, spinning them around several times until they stumble to a stop, dizzy but no less excited. “Wow. I’m impressed!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sapnap says, bashfully, “it was probably just luck.”

“Luck or not, you still played well, man. Don’t knock yourself too much.”

Sapnap exhales in a laugh. “Thanks. It was an honour to play against you.”

“It was an honour to play against  _ you _ ,” Karl counters easily, “and I’d be honoured to play against you again, if you ever wanted to.”

“That would be…” Sapnap inhales, bites the inside of his lip, and nods. “Nice. That would be nice.”

“Yeah,” Karl agrees. He looks almost starstruck. “It would be, wouldn’t it?”

Sapnap feels the butterflies in his stomach rev up now that the adrenaline of the game is starting to wear off. “Are you training again tomorrow?” he asks.

Karl nods, “yeah. Will you be there?”

If he wasn’t before, he will be now, Sapnap thinks. “Yeah. Definitely. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” Karl confirms. 

Sapnap almost doesn’t want to walk away, but he knows he has to get home. George will be wondering where he is, if he’s gotten back from worshipping the ground Dream walks on by now. He offers Karl a final smile, repeats, “tomorrow,” like it holds all the secrets to the universe, and almost, just almost, misses the smitten look in Karl’s eyes as he leaves.

* * *

“Where were you?” George demands as soon as Sapnap sneaks in through the door.

He’s sitting with his legs folded on the sofa, holding a glass of what could be apple juice like he’s pretending it’s wine, looking expectantly at Sapnap like he’s waiting for a torrent of gossip.

“Nowhere,” Sapnap says, and, “the courts.”

“The courts? You didn’t leave?”

He shakes his head, shutting the door behind him and leaning down to untie his sneakers. “I was with Karl.”

“No way.”

When he bends back up, he sends a gleeful look George’s way, relishing in the way his eyes and jaw seems to drop open. “Yes way.”

“Seriously?” George asks. He switches from leaning back on the couch to shifting forward on his knees. “Tell me everything, then. What the hell happened?”

“We were talking, between matches,” Sapnap explains. “You probably didn’t notice, you were too busy mooning at Dream.”

“Shut up.”

“But I was talking to Karl,” Sapnap says, “we were talking about playing. I said I liked it, but never had anyone to play with. He offered to play a match with me once everyone had left.”

“And you did?” George asks.

“And I did.”

George’s eyes widen even more. “No way. You’re lying to me. Tell me  _ everything _ .”

“I’m not lying! I won, as well. We were maybe flirting a bit,” Sapnap says, before frowning, “at least, I think we were.”

“Never mind that, what else happened?”

Sapnap shrugs, “he offered to play again tomorrow.”

“And are you going to?”

“Well, duh,” Sapnap says, “of course I am.”

“Well, what about asking him out after?” George suggests, “you can’t just play tennis all the time. That’s like, both of your jobs. Isn’t that weird?”

“I don’t know,” Sapnap says. “It’s like an office romance.”

“An office romance?”

Sapnap makes a face. “Well, I said I don’t know. But that’s all that happened.”

“And you’re playing again tomorrow,” George says for him. Sapnap nods. “You know, I never thought you’d actually do it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sapnap asks, frowning at George. 

“Nothing,” George says quickly, “just that… I thought you’d either wait until you got over him or you’d have some sort of dumb moment where he asked you out instead of the other way around.”

“You didn’t think I’d have the balls?” 

“Well, you said it,” George shrugs. He sips his apple juice. “But yeah. I didn’t think you’d have the balls.”

“Dude.”

George gives him a look, “but look. Now you’ve proved me wrong  _ and  _ you’ve got a hot date.”

“It’s not a date,” Sapnap says, but he can’t deny the butterflies floating around his bloodstream.

“Yet,” George corrects. “It’s not a date  _ yet _ .”

“Yet,” Sapnap agrees. The butterflies start to flutter harder.

* * *

The next day, George doesn’t make any attempt to make them late (so much for small victories, Sapnap supposes). In fact, George seems to put extra effort into rushing him along, pushing them out the door ten minutes earlier than normal.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sapnap manages to grumble, in between getting out of the building and to the courts. 

George doesn’t deign him with an answer, but it’s fairly obvious when they arrive at the court and find Karl, halfway through warming up. Sapnap feels himself blushing automatically, shoving at George in the hopes it’ll convey his  _ what the fuck is this  _ message.

Karl catches sight of them, glancing over and grinning. “Sapnap! And… George, is it? You guys are here early today.”

“Yeah,” George says, when it becomes apparent that Sapnap has temporarily lost the ability to speak, “we figured we’d make up for our lateness yesterday and overcompensate today.” He also makes a show of elbowing Sapnap in the side, obvious enough that Karl clearly notices and stifles a laugh.

“Exactly,” Sapnap agrees hurriedly, “what, uh. What George said.”

Karl turns his smile up to full brightness, directing it at Sapnap. “I’m sure. Well, I’m just warming up while we wait for Dream, so. You’re welcome to stick around.”

“That would be great,” George says, “we’ll just sit courtside. We won’t get in the way, will we, Sap?”

“Nope,” Sapnap says, following George as he leads the way over the far end of the court. Karl sticks to the opposite side, resuming his warm up exercises. Sapnap makes a considerable effort not to stare.

“You are so fucking dumb,” George tells him.

“Shut up,” Sapnap says, watching Karl’s shadow move. It’s not as hot today, which is a welcome change, but no less sunny. Sapnap swallows, biting the inside of his cheek. “Like you’re any better.”

George shrugs, “it’s not like I’ll ever play a match with my crush.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you don’t play proper matches.”

“That’s not the point,” George says, “but okay. You’re still going to ask him out after you play today, right?”

Sapnap grimaces. He takes the time to unzip his bag and pull out his water bottle, uncapping it and taking a drink in an attempt to delay his answer. George just waits patiently. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Oh, come on,” George says, “you’ve got to! You can’t just give up now.”

“Well, what if he doesn’t feel the same?”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” George says. “I’ve never seen Karl play a match with anyone outside of training times, but he did with you. That has to mean something.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Sapnap disagrees.

George hums, “Well, okay, maybe not. But you haven’t seen the way he looks at you. Have you?”

“I don’t know,” Sapnap deflects. He sort of has - at least, he’s looked at Karl while Karl’s looked at him. But he’s only ever seen his own feelings in Karl’s eyes, reflected straight back at him.

“He looks at you like you’ve hung the stars,” George says matter-of-factly, like it’s completely obvious. “Like you’ve hung the moon. Like he’d do anything for you and he barely even knows you.”

“Don’t lie,” Sapnap says, “how do you know that? And why hasn’t he ever done anything about it, then?”

“Why haven’t you ever done anything about it?” George counters, which is. Well. It’s a good point.

“Okay, well,” Sapnap starts.

He doesn’t get a chance to finish before Quackity arrives, followed quickly by Dream, and their conversation falls off in favour of focusing on the game. It’s something he’s somewhat grateful for - it means he gets to ignore it for a little while longer, even while George’s stare burns holes in his back and he can’t take his eyes off of Karl.

The first game is played quickly, and this time Dream wins it by a mile. Karl seems like he barely knows what’s hit him; Dream is playing about ten times better than he did yesterday, and even Sapnap feels caught up in the whirlwind he’s brought along with him. George seems utterly cowed by it, which is something Sapnap thinks should be impeding his ability to do his job, but it doesn’t seem to be. Which is almost, almost impressive (not that he’d ever tell George that).

The second takes far longer, but Dream ends up winning it too. Karl seems distracted today, and Sapnap feels his butterflies (which have become a seemingly permanent fixture in his stomach) growing concerned for him. They swarm around the anxious bubbling in his chest, stirring it up even more.

Thankfully, though, Karl scores the win in the third match, and it seems to lift his spirits slightly higher. He wins the fourth, too, and then he calls for a pause.

Sapnap approaches him without even really realising it. One moment he’s standing at the side of the court next to George, and the next he’s just a step to the left of Karl. 

“Hey.”

“Oh,” Karl says, turning to him. He offers him a smile. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Sapnap says again, smiling back. “You seem off your game today.”

Karl sighs. “Yeah. I didn’t sleep too good last night. I’m just tired today. Nothing to worry about; Dream probably deserves a win at this point, anyway.”

Sapnap chuckles, but it’s more out of pity than because of the joke. “Sure. You know, if you’re not up for playing me after the session today--”

“-No, no, it’s fine, we can play-”

“--then maybe we could go get coffee instead?”

Karl seems to halt. It takes him a few seconds to recalibrate, before he frowns. “What?”

Sapnap freezes too. “We could. Go get… coffee… together?”

“Really?”

“Do you- do you not want to?”

Karl doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“‘Cause we don’t have to,” Sapnap hurries to continue, rushing to fill the silence, “not if you don’t want to. I just thought… if you’re tired. We could go do that instead. If you want. But you don’t have to.”

“That would be great,” Karl says, blinking. “Uh. Is this like a… a date?”

Sapnap feels blood rushing to his temples, feels his pulse thrumming in his ears, feels himself blush across his whole body. “If you want it to be.”

“Do you want it to be?” Karl asks tentatively, like he isn’t sure quite where he’s supposed to be standing.

“Kind of,” Sapnap admits, “yeah.”

Karl seems just as flustered as he does; that, at least, is reassuring. “I think I’d like that too.” He says, and he nods, like he’s affirming it to himself. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Sapnap feels like the butterflies have been let free, now. They rush out of his mouth, spilling past his lips in a flurry of nervousness and apprehension and sweetness, and he almost can’t help the relieved laugh that follows them.. “Great. So. Uh. Coffee, then.”

“Yeah,” Karl agrees. His smile turns nervous too, but no less genuine. “Coffee.”

* * *

‘Coffee’ leads them to a small, independent tea shop. It’s somewhere Sapnap has never been (if he’s really honest about it, it’s somewhere he didn’t even know existed until Karl had mentioned it), but it’s quaint and warm and they have slices of cake about three inches thick (of which Karl orders two of).

“This place is nice,” Sapnap says, once they’ve sat down in a pair of rickety wooden chairs at a small wobbly table. He means it, too.

They don’t really fit in by any means; still hot and sweaty and in the tennis uniforms, but Karl doesn’t look bothered about it. So Sapnap tries not to be bothered about it either. 

“It is, isn’t it?” Karl says. He’d happily ordered for them, after Sapnap had declared himself utterly overwhelmed by the sheer range of herbal and fruit teas available. Karl had taken the objective seriously, ordering a selection of pots, and far too many teas for two people, but Sapnap can’t bring himself to mind all that much.

Karl looks wonderful surrounded by soft golden light and rose scented tea leaves, anyway.

He pours for them too, picking out one of the pots and pouring Sapnap a cup of something delightfully cherry-scented (and cherry coloured, he realises, upon seeing the bright red liquid in his teacup). 

“I didn’t peg you for a tea sort of guy, you know,” Sapnap says, watching Karl pour his own cup. He concentrates almost as much as he does when he’s playing tennis. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Sapnap says, “you just didn’t seem the sort. I guess that’s what I get for making assumptions.”

Karl looks over at him, smiling gently. “I guess so. I do do more than just hit balls with rackets.”

“Like what?” Sapnap asks. He picks up one of the tiny cake forks (he’s never used a cake fork before, and it fits awkwardly in his palm), and sections off a piece from one of the wedges Karl had ordered.

“Video games, mostly,” Karl answers. “Writing, I guess. Game development. Dumb things. What about you? Surely you do more than chase after balls.”

Sapnap shrugs, “Yeah, sometimes. George and I play video games together. We’re roommates. It’s kinda helpful to have a teammate whenever you need one.”

“You’re roommates?” Karl asks. He lifts his teacup up, holding the handle between his thumb and forefinger daintily. “That makes sense. You two always arrive together.”

Sapnap lifts his own cup up. He’s unsure how to hold it, trying to mirror Karl’s position as careful as he can. The heat from the tea leaks through the fine china though, and the rim of the cup is so flimsy, he’s afraid it’ll break apart just by touching it.

“It’s not that fragile,” Karl reassures him, “promise.”

“Last time you promised, you didn’t keep it that well,” Sapnap says, lightheartedly. It makes Karl laugh, and blush just slightly under the low light.

“That’s fair. But this time I really do mean it. It won’t break,” Karl says, before pausing. “Well, it  _ might  _ break. But it probably won’t.”

Sapnap frowns at the cup, feeling almost like he could break it apart with just his glare. “This isn’t helping to reassure me too much.”

Karl laughs. “Just drink it.”

He makes sure to send Karl one last, suspicious glance, before lifting the rim of the cup higher to his lips and sipping. It’s hotter than he expected, and sharper too. Sour, almost, but still distinctly cherry.

“What do you think?” Karl asks.

“Mm,” Sapnap says. He swallows, replacing the teacup on it’s saucer. “It’s, um… kinda sour.”

“It is sour cherry,” Karl says. Then he frowns slightly. “You don’t have to finish it if you don’t like it. Try one of the others.”

Sapnap runs his tongue along the back of his teeth, pushing the saucer away gratefully. “Which one should I try now?”

Karl deliberates for a moment, before picking up the pot that smells like rose, pouring it into a fresh cup. He also stirs in a half-spoon of honey, twisting his fingertips around the embellished handle of a teaspoon. Sapnap watches them like he can’t look away.

This tea is less bright, a watery brown with the faintest hint of purple to it. It looks more inviting than the cherry, and he takes it eagerly from Karl when he passes the cup across the table.

“This one is sweeter,” he explains, “and less strong. I just thought you’d like the cherry since… well, I guess we both made some assumptions. I thought you’d like a stronger flavour.”

Sapnap nods with him. “I do like cherry flavours. Just not in tea.”

“We all have our tastes,” Karl says, with a small smile. “Try it now, it should be cool enough.”

Sapnap lifts the teacup obediently, sipping it more cautiously this time. Karl is right; this flavour is softer and sweeter, but somehow no less powerful. It’s stronger than he was expecting, but weaker than the cherry. He swallows a full mouthful, and then a second.

Then, he says, “I thought you said that one would be less strong?”

Karl shrugs, sheepishly. “It is, sort of. Rose is still a pretty intense flavour, it’s just sweeter and more floral. It makes it weaker, but it still has a heavy flavour profile.”

“You know a lot about this,” Sapnap says. It’s nice, listening to him talk.

“I guess I do,” Karl says. He shrugs, and takes another sip of his own tea. “I guess I just like things that begin with ‘t’.”

“That’s funny,” Sapnap says. He feels himself sinking into a more comfortable self, letting himself relax now they’ve overcome the first date awkwardness. “I like things that begin with ‘k’.”

It takes Karl a few moments to realise it, but when he does, he jolts upright and blushes, and a smile works its way across his face. He’s far less confident off the tennis court, Sapnap notes. “Did you-?”

Sapnap falters, treading on uneven footing now. “Yeah. Is that… okay?”

“Yeah,” Karl says. His eyebrows knit together but he doesn’t seem distressed. “Yeah. That’s okay. Sorry, I… I wasn’t expecting it.”

Sapnap offers him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be too forward.”

“No, it’s fine,” Karl reassures, and he sounds like he means it. “It’s okay. You can… keep doing it. If you like.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure.”

“Great,” Sapnap says. He takes another sip of the tea, letting warm rose drip down his throat. He repeats, “Great,” quieter, this time, letting the word fester on his tongue for a moment before letting it go.

“Great,” Karl echoes, and it doesn’t take long for him to giggle under the cover of the steam and the warmth and the half-darkness of the tea shop.

It’s endearing, Sapnap decides, watching Karl pour tea and giggle under his breath and talk about tea flavours and video games and tennis plays he’s seen, running along invisible connections that Sapnap tries to follow. He just sits and listens most of the time, enjoying the way Karl’s voice melts along the table top.

They finish most of the teapots eventually, and by the time Sapnap remembers to check the time, it’s damn near evening. The sun is well on it’s way to setting, and they’ve been sitting there for almost six hours. It feels like no time at all, and he hardly doesn’t want to say goodbye. 

He does, though, pulling himself away from Karl reluctantly, with promises of ‘tomorrow,’ and ‘again, sometime,’ and ‘I’ll see you soon,’ on his lips. These are promises he’ll keep.

Karl does follow him to the door of the tea shop, though, and he ducks his head just enough to press a kiss to Sapnap’s cheek before he leaves. Sapnap isn’t expecting it, and shockwaves run through his system like lightning, jumpstarting his heart. It would be almost embarrassing, if Karl didn’t look so shell shocked too.

He harnesses that energy, and uses it to guide himself home, too busy thinking of Karl and roses and heavy steam to pay attention to much of anything at all.

* * *

George is waiting for him when he gets through the door. This time, he’s holding a mug of hot chocolate and wearing a sweater that’s far too big for him, watching the clock and the door handle expectantly.

“You were a while,” he says, voice full of something Sapnap can’t quite decode.

Sapnap pulls the door shut, taking just enough time to pull his coat off and tuck his shoes away in the shoe rack, before falling back against it, letting his head bang against the wood, and sighing. “He’s amazing, Georgie.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“He really is,” Sapnap continues, like he didn’t hear. “I miss him already. It was so great. He kissed me, you know.”

“He  _ what _ .”

“He kissed me,” Sapnap repeats, “on the cheek, just before I left. It was so good.”

“You’re going to be insufferable,” George says, “aren’t you?” Sapnap can’t quite bring himself to care. “If you ever decide to wax poetic about him to me, I will not listen. I’m telling you this now, so you better not expect anything from me later.”

“Whatever, George,” Sapnap says. “I have Karl now.”

George softens slightly. Sapnap feels his eyes die down from burning flames to embers. “I take it everything went well, then.”

“So well,” Sapnap agrees, “so, so well.”

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to [logan](https://twitter.com/mshroomcat) and [crim](https://twitter.com/crimsvn2) for being the reason this entire fic started (as in, we heard karl say he played tennis on the karlnap couples therapy stream, and couldnt stop talking about it for a bit. i love u guys! thank u for being awesome.
> 
> anyway, id love to know what you thought about this! please.
> 
> come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ERR0RGEO)!


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